


Three confessions and what to make of them

by mariuspondmercy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 15:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19298617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspondmercy/pseuds/mariuspondmercy
Summary: In which Enjolras realises that he might have feelings for Grantaire, has a bit of a crisis and confessions to make.





	Three confessions and what to make of them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enthugger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthugger/gifts).



> A belated birthday fic for my friend Anna! I hope you'll enjoy this ♥

1.

Enjolras gently folded the right sleeve to the middle, tugged it straight, and folded the left sleeve over as well. He hummed softly, pushing the properly folded shirt to the corner of the table. Soon, more shirts followed, piled on top of each other. Once his laundry was folded, he turned towards Marius’ laundry basket. Usually, they did their laundry separately, but Enjolras was in a mood. Marius did dishes when he needed to work through things, Enjolras did the laundry. That didn’t mean their flat was tidy - not by a long shot. At least the dishes got regularly done, something Enjolras and Courfeyrac had never managed when living together. It had gotten so bad during exam times that Combeferre had threatened to pile all their mugs into the shower so they had to wash them eventually. Grantaire, on the other hand, had offered to buy them a dishwasher and have Feuilly install it in their living room. 

Enjolras smiled softly at the memory. His friends were idiots, but at least they were his idiots.

Getting back to the task at hand, Enjolras cleared away his shirts, folded socks and hung-up jeans. His fingers lingered on the soft fabric of his checkered trousers - a weird buy, honestly, but Jehan had somehow convinced Enjolras to get purple pants. Grantaire had complimented him on them.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Enjolras pulled them out of the closet again and slipped them on. He needed to get dressed for the meeting in an hour anyway. 

“Someone’s looking fancy,” Marius teased, leaning against the door frame with the dish towel still slung over his shoulder. 

Enjolras had become way too accustomed with that smirk on his face - damn Courfeyrac for his influence. 

“You’re literally wearing boat shoes.”

Marius’ ears flushed red, blush high on his cheeks. “I like the fresh air my feet get.”

“As long as you’re not wearing socks with sandals or - Heavens beware - flip-flops.”

“They call them thongs in Australia.” 

“I… didn’t need that sort of information.”

There it was again, that fucking smirk. Enjolras was waiting for the low blow.

“Remember how Grantaire and Éponine backpacked through Australia?” Marius turned around and lead the way to the hallway, sure that Enjolras was following him like a fool. Marius handed Enjolras his summer jacket, grabbing his own form the hook, too. “Now you can ask him if he was wearing thongs while he went Down Under.” The sentence was followed by excessive eyebrow-wiggling.

“Marius!” Enjolras laughed loudly.

Marius winked and opened the door. “After you, please.”

They left together, switching topics to the show they were currently binge-watching. They had left way too early, as was custom when they had the time for it. This way, Enjolras could set up the meeting while Marius got them something small to eat. 

Trailing after Marius, Musichetta carried all three of their drinks. 

“Just got off shift,” she smiled. “I’ll join you for food and coffee before the rest get in.”

They settled down, Enjolras pushing his notes aside to make room for the coffees, cakes and sandwiches. One after another, their friends joined until at last Gavroche completed their group. He'd been to a friend's place and lost track of time - happened to the best of them. Last week, Combeferre had arrived half an hour late because he had found some pebbles he'd wanted to examine. 

Enjolras didn't mind starting the meeting late. It gave him a chance to catch up, even though he'd last seen most of his friends only two days ago. There was always something to talk about, which is why everyone still lingered after the official end of the meeting. 

While Jehan was ordering more chai latte, Grantaire slipped into their vacated seat. 

“Nice pants,” he smiled. “They suit you.”

“Thanks. I'm glad I bought them. Though I foolishly forgot I own about two shirts and one jumper which go with them. And the jumper is in the laundry, so I'm a bit cold now.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“Beauty is pain,” Grantaire said wisely. 

He winked at Enjolras, making him huff out a laugh. 

“Yes, I am in immense pain, my arms are blocks of ice and my nose it practically frozen, too. Ah, but you know me. I am more dedicated to fashion and trends and the way people perceive my body than anything else.” For good measure, Enjolras added an exaggerated sigh to the end of his speech. He had learned  _ something  _ from Courfeyrac after all these years. 

“As luck has it,” Grantaire answered, “my undeniably incredible sense of fashion caused me to wear a too warm jumper today. Its green matches the green in the pattern of your trousers. In case you want to not be cold anymore…”

Enjolras considered the offer. He really was a bit cold but Grantaire was usually colder than him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Sure as sugar. I'm oddly warm today. Must be that I actually got a decent amount of sleep. I'm trying this new thing, it's called being a responsible adult.”

“Never heard of it.”

Grantaire snorted. “Jumper?”

Enjolras nodded and accept the very warm, very cozy jumper. 

“Thank you. I have to do laundry tomorrow anyway, then I can give it back to you soon.”

“Please. It's one of my favourite jumpers. It's very soft. Treasure it.”

Before Enjolras could answer, Jehan came back with their drinks. 

“I see an intruder has found his way into our midst, ” they grinned. 

Grantaire pushed his chair back a little and opened his arms. “It's free real estate?”

Jehan snorted, but set down the drinks and took up residence on Grantaire’s lap. 

“Cozy?” Enjolras asked, fingers playing with the well-worn cuffs of the jumper. 

“Very,” Jehan beamed. 

Enjolras laughed softly. He grabbed his mug and leaned back in his chair, observing his friends with a smile. Snuggling into Grantaire’s jumper, a comfortable calmness settled over him. 

Later that evening, when Enjolras was home and lay on his bed, Marius watching some YouTube video next to him, an odd thought occurred to him. He didn't want to give up the warmth Grantaire’s jumper provided. He didn't want to lose the scent or his friend’s closeness. He wanted it to be with him. Because maybe, just maybe, what he felt for Grantaire wasn't quite as platonic. After months of denial, maybe it was finally time to confess it to himself: He was in love with Grantaire. 

~~~

2.

A day after his little self-revelation, Enjolras was stress-cooking in Courfeyrac’s and Combeferre’s kitchen. A spinach frittata, homemade naan and three different types of dumplings later, Combeferre finally managed to get his friend away from the kitchen. Well. He man-handled Enjolras by the shoulders and forcibly sat him down on the sofa. Courfeyrac was already on it, pressing a cup of chamomile tea into Enjolras’ hands. 

“You're a headless chicken,” Courfeyrac started, “and while I appreciate all the tasty food, I don't appreciate the stress you’re under. What is going on?”

Enjolras shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure if he was ready to share this precious information with someone besides himself yet. 

“I don't think I want to talk about it yet, but it's nothing you guys need to worry about. I promise. I'm just a little… Overwhelmed, at the moment. Emotionally, not mentally.”

“We respect that you don't want to talk about it,” said Combeferre. “But I won't lie and pretend I'm not curious or a little worried.”

“I have to sort my thoughts out first and then we can talk, I promise. Now, can we eat? I didn't make all of it to go to waste.”

“Are you even hungry?” Courfeyrac asked. “You tasted everything while cooking… I’m not really hungry. I mean, I could eat, of course, but…”

“I’m a bit hungry. Not very much. I want a veggie dumpling, I think. And… ice cream. Do you guys have ice cream?”

“Who do you take us for?” Courfeyrac gasped in mock horror. “Of course we have ice cream! Three kinds!”

“Hazelnut?”

“Sure thing, darling. You grab the dumplings, I grab the ice cream and the wonderful human who's my boyfriend will grab some blankets.”

“Let Enjolras finish his tea first.”

Enjolras smiled softly and leaned against Combeferre, sipping on his chamomile tea. He must've fallen asleep, crashed from having had the anxious high earlier that day. When he woke, he had been tucked in with a blanket and Courfeyrac’s cat was sleeping on his chest. Enjolras gently stroke Bonapaw, listening to him purring away happily. Maybe he should buy a cat. Maybe he wasn't really in love with Grantaire, maybe he just liked the attention he got. 

A cat could help. A dog could help better but Enjolras - unlike Grantaire and Combeferre - wasn't a dog person. 

Maybe. 

Maybe he was just kidding himself because he didn't want to face the possibility that he was, for once, really infatuated with someone. 

Not because of the whole  _ the society comes before the individual  _ crap, not because it made him vulnerable. 

Just because he couldn't really decipher his feelings. 

Well. Considering his two best friends managed to get their shit together, maybe they were the right people to ask. 

Enjolras scooped Bonapaw up carefully and got up, cat still in his arms. He followed the quiet voices and found Combeferre and Courfeyrac sitting at their breakfast bar, heads bent close together and smiles in place. 

For a minute or so, Enjolras simply observed the ease of them, the way they just existed in each other’s orbit. 

“Hey there,” Enjolras said softly to not startle them. “Heya,” Courfeyrac smiled back. “Slept well? We saved you some ice cream.”

“I had a much needed nap and could do with some much needed hazelnut ice cream. And some advice. Sorry for being cranky, I apologise.”

“It’s alright,” Combeferre said. “We all have such days. If it becomes a habit, you know what to do.”

“Yes I do.”

“Do you want to keep carrying the cat around?” Combeferre asked. 

“He loves me more than he loves you, so I'll carry him as long as it pleases him.”

“You’re not wrong but don't let Courfeyrac hear you.”

“I am right next to you,” Courfeyrac protested. “Getting ice cream isn't that distracting, I can still hear you. And I think you're a meanie, Ferre, even though Enjolras is right.”

Enjolras huffed out a laugh. “Bonapaw and I have a special connection. I don't know how or why. I suppose it’s because he used to live with Marius and now I live with Marius?”

“That makes no sense but that's alright, because I have prepared the ice cream. Sofa or balcony?”

“Balcony,” Combeferre decided. 

Always one to seek out the sun. 

Once they were settled and Bonapaw was sleeping on the fourth chair, Enjolras leaned back and sighed. 

“Okay, so.” he had to laugh a little at Courfeyrac leaning forward and wagging his eyebrows in exaggeration. “So. I think that I'm kind of maybe into Grantaire? Like, the other day I dreamed about kissing him, which isn't too telling but I still wanted to kiss him after I had woken up. And I'm just wondering how I can distinguish between romantic and platonic feelings.”

Combeferre hummed thoughtfully. “Have you talked to Marius? He’s also on the aro-spectrum.”

“I have only had this revelation yesterday and wanted to talk it through with you guys first. But Marius saw Cosette and was basically star-struck immediately. But you two moved from friends to being in love and that is closer to my experience? I think?”

“For me, it came very slowly. It wasn’t that I realised immediately that I was in love with Combeferre. It snuck up on me. Started with just wanting to be close, being excited about getting to wear his jumpers so I purposefully left mine at home or said I’m cold. I sought out seats next to him or kinda forgot that the world was happening when he told me stuff. And it just… slowly dawned on me when I felt myself getting more and more distracted and less looking after other people because I compared them all to Combeferre. He mostly came out as the winner.”

“Mostly?” Combeferre laughed. “Thanks, dork.” He squeezed Courfeyrac’s knee gently. “For me it was more obvious from the beginning. I fell very hard and very silly. At some point he walked into the living room in his dumb flamingo shorts, topless - as he often does - and caught his foot on the door frame. He stumbled and fell and looked up at me and just laughed. I was just… very struck by how lovely he was and how beautiful he looked. It was also quite horrible to see him in my clothes all the time because it made just fall in love even more. But no. This idiot forgot his sweater all the time. So I never questioned if it was just friendly feelings.”

“I for sure did,” Courfeyrac said. “Because it was damn confusing.”

Enjolras nodded softly. “Thank you. So what you’re saying is that when I get stupidly happy that I get to wear Grantaire’s sweaters…”

“It’s romantic feelings, yes,” Courfeyrac said.

“Then I have a confession to make: I’m in love with Grantaire.”

Combeferre smiled at him. “I’m fucking glad for you. Are you gonna tell him?”

“Eventually. I have to stomach this myself first.”

“You should tell him,” Combeferre urged. “Or at least do more one-on-one things with him? I happen to have two tickets for the opera next weekend but since I have to take on an extra shift, I can’t go. I had wanted to go with Grantaire anyway, so you could just take my place?”

“I think that’s a great idea, you should totally call him and ask if it’s okay for you to come.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will do that! Definitely! Once I have finished my melted ice cream and overcome my existential crisis.”

Courfeyrac laughed and kissed his cheek. Well, at least Enjolras was now feeling good about himself and his feelings - sort of. 

 

~~~

 

3.

Calling Grantaire had been hard, scary, even though Enjolras had only asked a perfectly normal and not at all suspicious - it had felt suspicious. 

Actually meeting Grantaire was fairly easy after Enjolras had had a bit of a pep talk from Courfeyrac and a style guide from Combeferre because Enjolras had no idea how to dress for the opera. He didn’t even know if he liked opera but Combeferre, Joly and Grantaire seemed to be weirdly fond of it. Enjolras, on the other hand, mainly imagined a lot of high-pitched Italian, balconies, stuck-up people and no emotions whatsoever. 

Well, he at least look good, if he did say so himself. 

When he arrived at the opera house, Grantaire was already waiting outside, smoking. 

“Hey there,” Grantaire smiled. He stubbed out the cigarette and threw the butt into the bin. “Do you want to get a drink before it starts?”

“Sounds good. I’m a little nervous,” Enjolras confessed, “because I’ve never been to the opera. Combeferre dressed me because I think my view of it was a bit…”

“High art?”

Enjolras laughed. “Makes me sound like an asshole, doesn’t it?”

“Makes you sound honest. I guess it’s still considered as high art, more so than cinema or musicals. I still like it though but it’s okay if you don’t really dig it.”

“I think I can’t judge it before I’ve tried it. So, you said something about drinks? Reckon they have tonic water?”

“I mean, it’s pretty damn gross but I’m sure they have it,” Grantaire grinned. “I’ll treat you to it. And a pack of peanuts?”

“Sounds good. You… uhm… you look nice, by the way.”

“Oh. Thanks… You… Combeferre did a good job on your outfit, too. The purple really suits you.”

Enjolras tugged on his shirt self-consciously. “Thanks. I like your yellow slacks. They’re fun.”

“Fun?” Grantaire snorted. “I like ‘em, too. Jehan suggested them.”

“They have odd fashion taste but I guess you chose the shirt yourself, so you’re still looking good.” 

Grantaire smiled softly. “On fire with the compliments, I see. Alright, this way to the bar.” 

He gently led Enjolras, placing his hand on the small of Enjolras’ back, sending tingles all through Enjolras. After Grantaire bought them drinks and a snack, it was soon time to take their seats and experience the opera for way longer than Enjolras had anticipated. Once the opera was over, Enjolras felt a little disorientated. 

“So…” Grantaire started. 

“I need a minute to think.”

Grantaire snorted. “Alright. Grab a drink somewhere and chat about the opera?”

“Yes please.” 

“There’s a really nice bar just around the corner. They make incredible alcohol free cocktails. And they use macaroni as straws. And they don’t shove incredibly loud music down your throat. So overall, what do you say?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me. I don’t like bars with too loud music. I kinda need to pee though.”

“Well, as luck has it, this bar, which serves drinks, has a toilet. What a coincidence!”

Enjolras laughed softly. “What lucky men we are on this fine, chilly autumn evening.” 

“Are you too cold? We’re nearly there, but you could borrow my jacket?”

“I… that would be nice, yeah. The wind is a bit biting.”

It really wasn’t, but any excuse to wear Grantaire’s clothes was a good excuse. And if Grantaire suspected anything… well, maybe it was just like Combeferre had said. Maybe he enjoyed seeing Enjolras in his clothes. 

Yeah sure, as if.

It really was only a short walk to the bar Grantaire had found somewhere tucked away behind buildings in a very crooked alleyway. It was cute, with an outdoor area miraculously but not surprisingly opening up to a view to the Eiffel Tower. How horribly stereotypical. 

If this were a date, however, Enjolras would love the symbolism of it. Maybe Enjolras would even ask for their first date to be at that bar - or would that just be weird? 

He was getting a little ahead of himself anyway. No one said Grantaire wanted to date him. Enjolras hadn’t even confessed his feelings, didn’t know when he’d do it. Maybe tonight, maybe in half a year. It was a complicated thing. 

Once they had their cocktails, Grantaire leaned back in his chair, observing Enjolras for a moment, twirling his macaroni straw. 

“So, what did you think?”

“I’m a bit overwhelmed. Seems to be a theme at the moment.” Enjolras furrowed his brows but shook his head dismissively at Grantaire’s questioning look. “It was very… intense. Was it a modern opera?”

“Yeah, more modern than the ones you thought of for sure. It certainly was intense, but in the good way, you know? It feels like I’m still tingling all over just from the last few minutes. They were just… so rough and full of emotions, don’t you think?”

“It really was. Though I have to say that I didn’t really feel sympathy for the main character. I mean… don’t get me wrong, I did feel bad that she was murdered and had a downfall but she was also sort of responsible for it herself?”

“Oh my God,” Grantaire laughed. “But she was literally presented as a snake at the beginning. She was dehumanised from the very first scene. Did she have any other chance?”

“Any other chance than cheating and lying? I’m sure she did. She shot her last husband.”

“That was basically self-defense.” 

“I think I need to read reviews and think more about it to fully grasp it. Yes, it was self-defense but it also really wasn’t and she showed no remorse, ever, until someone threatened to rat her out.”

“It’s tricky indeed. Maybe once you’ve thought about it, we could meet up for coffee or dinner and talk about it again?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Enjolras smiled. 

“Did you like the opera as a form?”

“Eh… I think I prefer theatre? It was an interesting experience, that’s certain. I’m glad I finally did go to the opera. Can tick that off my bucket list.”

“Do you actually have a bucket list or is that just a thing to say? Cause I know Jehan has an actual bucket list. What else is on it?” Grantaire leaned forward and smiled softly. “Bungee jumping? Paragliding? Swimming with sharks? Climb the Eiffel Tower? Take a bath in donkey’s milk?”

Enjolras grinned. “Donkey’s milk? Like Cleopatra?”

“You share the beauty.” Grantaire winked at him. “So?”

“Let me think… I want to see the Nutcracker as a ballet. I want to go to Copenhagen and do eco-kayaking, I want to pet a really large dog and a really tiny cat at the same time. I want to take the bus to Andorra and hike on a mountain. And I kind of want to go on a date with you.” 

“To the Andorran mountains? Cause I am not up for that, oh God, I will not hike.”

Enjolras laughed a little nervously. “Not to the mountains.”

“Well, then we can certainly go on a date. Hiking is more of a half year anniversary kind of thing.”

“Oh. I… oh wow. I didn’t expect that to happen. That was easy. Huh.”

“What can I say, I’m pretty easy,” Grantaire laughed. “Nah, I’m just pretty into you and I kinda caught on that you might like me? I wasn’t sure if you’d realised it though.”

“Tell me about it.” Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I had a bit of a crisis over it and I’m not sure I have quite left the crisis behind me yet but I am pretty sure about you.”

“I will just have to believe you. And funnily enough, I do believe in you. Fancy anything special for your first date?”

“How about we just call this our first date? We have the rest of the evening left, after all.”

Grantaire smiled softly. 

“I’d like that a lot, Enjolras.”


End file.
